#badapples

Twenty-two years ago I gave birth to my son. 3.9 kgs (P.S. for those of you who asked where he is today, from my last post- he is a law student now). I went to Mulago hospital. Old Mulago section. I was a young woman with no money and there were free services- tetanus shot, height, weight, pressure measurements- but they came with a cost.
The day came for the great arrival and I carried my ka-bag and walked all the way. There were plenty of women in the ward that day- about 16. And then me. With two stressed, over-worked midwives on duty. At one point the births became back-to-back. One woman’s child popped out and she fell to the floor on her knees with the baby’s head stuck between her legs. Before I fled from the ward, the midwife was yelling, “Oli musiru! Oyagala kutta mwana wo? Lwaki bwowulidde nga omwana ajja tosituse??!! (Foolish woman! do you want to kill your child? Why didn't you get up when you felt the baby coming??!!) And the woman was crawling around in circles moaning, “Musawo jangu onyambe! Musawo jangu onyambe!” (Nurse, please help me, Nurse, please help me!”) repeatedly.
When my labor pains started showing me touch at about 6:30pm, I decided that there would be no repeat scenario of what I had witnessed. For me I wasn't going to be yelled at. I got the plastic sheet and bag of gloves, cotton wool etc and raced to the delivery bed. I hoisted myself up, not even knowing how to lie down.
By this time, there was only one midwife on duty, busy grumbling about “Bakazi mwe muntamye!” (I’m fed up with you women!) She was working on a woman who had been in labor for three days (I managed to hear that gossip in between my contractions) and who had nearly puked all her intestines out. Even when she was pushing out the baby, she was heaving. Big dry heaves. Anti she had been drinking only black tea for three days but it long been ejected. (Someone please tell me how black tea helps the birth process). The baby was eventually born. Then it was my turn. I have no idea if the midwife shouted at me. All I remember was pain from the tips of my toes to the tips of my hair, then a baby and stitches. Then I jumped off the delivery bed, shaking like a leaf.
Twenty-two years later, many of the Mulago staff are still a grumpy, surly lot. I have tried to put myself in their shoes so that I don’t come off as being unfair, unfeeling, prejudiced. I understand that they want more pay, that their working conditions may not be the best, that they see a lot of blood and broken bones. And that can be stressful.
But take for example the Cancer Institute which we have been attending for a year and a half. The doctors are okay. Nice and polite. Listening.
The nurses…
A middle-aged woman with breast cancer, who had been waiting nearly the whole day, braving the mid-morning rain and the cold, and who had not been attended to, meekly approached the nurse who was taking the weight and pressure measurements. The nurse had taken a ka-break and was standing behind an old, empty counter of sorts.
“Nansi, mbadde wano olunaku lwonna naye temunyata failo yange.” (Nurse, I have been here the whole day, but there is no mention of my file.)
“Kati oyagala nkole ki??” (What do you want me to do??)The nurse barked back.
“Mbadde mbuza bubuza. Oyinza okunyambako ojinfunire bambi?” (I was asking if you could help me locate it please?) There were tears in her eyes.
The nurse looked right through her like she wasn't there, the way some children look at visitors when you say “hallo” and you don't have a sweet for them.
After a few minutes of being ignored, the patient made another feeble attempt, “Nansi, nsaba… (Nurse, please…) ”
She shouldn't have. Because Nansi suddenly metamorphosed into an animal of sorts.
“Nkugambye oyagala nkukolere ki??!!! (I have asked you what you want me to do for you!!), she screamed, her eyes blazing and the veins in her neck standing out. She hit the counter top with her palm. “Kati okaba. Kale ffembi katukabe, tulabe ani asinga amaziga!!
The woman dissolved into more tears, reached into her hand and pulled out a big hanky, then retreated to the corner like a mouse where she cried her eyes out.
The girl at the front desk is no better. She has big sad eyes and can only offer one word answers. “Ye”. “Nedda”. “Wali”. “Awo.” “Eri”.
What went wrong? What is the matter? Why is their moral so damp? How can they be motivated? Are they motivatable? Do they love their jobs? Clearly not. I know their code of ethics demands professionalism and mutual respect, but does that include yelling at people and refusing to help?
By the way, its not all of them, just a few bad apples spoiling the rest.